


Talk To Me

by zungeonsandzaddies



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Flashback, Foreshadowing of Character Death, Hurt, giving glenn emotions because he has them goddammit, takes place directly after episode 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zungeonsandzaddies/pseuds/zungeonsandzaddies
Summary: Spoilers for Ep. 52: Pap-Papillon ~“Hey, Honeybun,” Jodie answered, putting the call on speakerphone, “We’re in a bit of a pinch here. Are you okay?”Glenn’s knees buckled, and he fell to the ground. Voices cried out his name as the world went black.
Relationships: Glenn Close/Morgan Freeman (Dungeons and Daddies)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24





	Talk To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Me: “I’m going to write a fic that is so fucking sad...”
> 
> This takes place directly after ep 52, which yes, destroyed me. 
> 
> Glenn flashes back to before Morgan died.
> 
> Glenn has childhood trauma that affects how he functions in his relationships.
> 
> Glenn has Regrets.

Jodie pulled out his outdated flip phone, and on the small screen, Glenn caught a glimpse of a name he knew well. 

It couldn’t be...

“Hey, Honeybun,” Jodie answered, putting the call on speakerphone, “We’re in a bit of a pinch here. Are you okay?”

All of a sudden, Glenn realized what was happening. Who this new guy was.

Jodie was the new dad. _Nick’s_ new dad. His replacement. 

And somehow, that switcheroo meant that his wife was… alive?

Though it hadn’t been that long, really, since the other dads had heard her voice, Glenn had spent fifteen years in prison since that fucking insane phone call with Morgan from 2012 back when they first came face to face with the Omega Daddies. He had forgotten the sound of her voice again. But he would recognize it from a mile away, even now. 

“Joe,” Morgan said, her voice cutting out a bit through the phone, “Mercedes Oak-Garcia just contacted me about the… rescue mission? I thought you saved Nicholas? What’s going on, babe?”

She sounded tired, like she did at the end of a long day of chatting up customers at the hair salon, but she still sounded like Morgan. 

Morgan, who was still Nick’s mom.

Morgan, who was alive.

Morgan, who was calling Jodie “ _babe_.”

Glenn’s knees buckled, and he fell to the ground. Voices cried out his name as the world went black. 

* * * * * * *

“What’s going on, babe?” 

Glenn dropped the dishes into the sink a little more forcefully than he had to. “Nothing. Everything’s cool, man.”

Surrounded by the pastel yellow cabinets that they always meant to repaint but never got around to of their small house in San Dimas, California, Glenn stood facing the sink after their second awkwardly tense family dinner this week, halfway through which Nick had shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth and excused himself to go play because even he, at age seven, could tell there was a weird energy in the room.

Morgan walked up behind Glenn and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her warmth spread through his arm, but he pulled away. 

“Alright, spit it out, Close. I know you’re upset about _something_.”

Glenn was always chill. He was always cool. If he was concerned about something, he would ignore it. He would simply choose not to dwell on it. He’d get over it eventually, and that way no one he loved ever had to know he was mad at them, and he never had to fight about anything that actually mattered. His cool, nothing-can-shake-me reputation was upheld, and the problem simply faded into the past. 

However, Morgan had grown very good at reading his emotions over the past nine years. She could read him better than anyone else ever had, which—if he was being honest—scared him most of the time. Sometimes, it annoyed him. Like now. 

“Babe, it’s fine.”

“Glenn—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, man.”

“Don’t ‘man’ me right now. Come on.”

“Why not? It’s not like we’re fighting.”

“Aren’t we?”

Glenn turned and looked at her then. 

Fuck. He hated fighting with Morgan. That was why he tried to avoid it, tried not to get into things that were bothering him. If he tried hard enough, he could convince himself nothing was wrong. He was the fucking king of denial. 

“I don’t _want_ to fight with you, Glenn, but you never talk to me!”

“Psht, I talk to you, Freeman.”

“I’m serious, babe. When you’re in these moods, you just cave in on yourself, you try to put on this front that you’re cool, that everything’s cool, but I know it isn’t. Is this about something I did?”

Glenn’s fingers clutched the edge of the counter behind him.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Yeah? Then don’t fucking flirt with other people when we’re out all the time!”

Morgan looked shocked. Shit. 

“I thought that made you jealous in a _fun_ way, Glenn! We’ve done that forever!”

“No, we _used to_ have competitions. We used to bet on who could pick up the most people in one night.”

“Yeah...?”

“And I stopped playing that game years ago, Morgan!”

Glenn felt his face getting hot. He didn’t like getting upset. He didn’t like to show that other people’s actions got to him. 

“Glenn… I didn’t know.”

“Whatever. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine, babe. I don’t mean to hurt you. You know you’re the only person I want.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

Glenn was trying desperately to cool down. He felt uncomfortable, he wanted to run. 

For his whole life, he’d run from conflict. When he learned that the bigger kids in school would swing at him for wearing cool punk eyeliner, he learned to dart into empty classrooms when they passed by. When his mom posted a list of rules for the house on the fridge that Glenn didn’t want to abide by, he ran away to his dad’s. When Bill’s lifestyle led to numerous nights in a row where Glenn wouldn’t sleep because his dad hadn’t texted him back in 24 hours, he moved out and used being ‘an adult now’ as his excuse. He never confronted those bullies. He never argued with his mom over the rules. He never admitted that Bill scared him shitless. 

It was easier to leave. It was easier to run. People always found ways to be hurtful, so Glenn developed the very important life skill, in his opinion, of protecting himself. And he was the shit. He was fucking fantastic, charismatic, talented. He didn’t need anyone else.

But. When he was nineteen years old, an absolutely gorgeous girl came to four of his shows in a row in the second most popular underground music venue in that college town. He started talking to her after the shows, grabbed drinks with her, shared a joint in the back alley with her. And fell in love with her.

He’d never been in love before. He didn’t really believe in love, or monogamy. Why pick one person, a partner, to spend all your time (and money) on, when you could do your own thing and keep everyone in your life at arm’s length? Glenn was hot shit, anyway. If he ever needed help or an emergency contact or some shit, he could find someone to come to his rescue. 

But Morgan Freeman was… God. She was fun and hilarious and free-spirited and crass, and also kind and passionate and warm and wise. When she looked at Glenn with those big brown eyes, he felt like she was looking directly into his soul. When she put on her ABBA records and danced her heart out alone in her tiny apartment’s living room, whether Glenn joined her or not, Glenn couldn’t keep his walls up no matter how hard he tried. 

The most noteworthy thing about Morgan, though, was that she cared how Glenn was feeling. Within a few days of Glenn officially asking her to be his girlfriend, she was texting him ‘ _good morning, dickhead (affectionate)_ ’ every morning and ‘ _go to sleep if you haven’t already or i’ll tell the cops you’re a drug dealer with a gun so they’ll tase you and you’ll finally get some shuteye ;)_ ” every night at midnight. 

If Morgan couldn’t make it to one of Glenn’s shows, she would let him know ahead of time and ask him to give her a Private VIP Showing of the full set. 

If Morgan had to cancel on a date, she would suggest a new time and place in the same text that said she had to reschedule. 

If Morgan needed a ride to a job interview, she would buy Glenn a coffee on the way as thanks. 

These were all things that Morgan seemed to do without thinking, but that Glenn was in awe of. If Bill just didn’t show up to a show he had said he would attend, Glenn would brush it off like it was fine the morning after. If Bill had to cancel on their plans to shoplift from as many Targets as they could hit in two hours, he’d just pat Glenn on the back and say they’d ‘do it some other time’, and Glenn would pretend he believed him. If Bill made fun of Glenn for the shitty grade he got on a test, Glenn would force a laugh along with him and pretend it wasn’t because he had snuck out of school halfway through the test because he’d gotten a text from Bill asking him to do him a favor and pick him up from the local precinct in the middle of the school day.

Glenn didn’t know how to express his amazement at Morgan’s behavior towards him. He didn’t know how to thank her for something as simple as caring about his feelings. He tried, through showering her with gifts when he could afford them. All she had to do was text ‘ _u up?_ ’ when she was horny and he was at her doorstep in less than fifteen minutes every time. But he never quite felt like he was doing enough. He never felt like he would ever be able to express the full extent of his love and devotion for her.

Even now, nine years after that first date, seven years after their son was born and they’d gotten married, he would become legitimately frustrated at how impossible it felt to tell Morgan just how much he loved her. 

“Glenn, don’t brush me off like that. I’m sick of it.”

And here he was, fighting with her because he couldn’t keep his jealousy in check. 

He had no right to feel jealous. So what if Morgan flirted with other people? She married _him_. She went to bed with _him_ every night. She took care of their son while he went on tour and kissed _his_ face over and over when he came home on Christmas Eve every year. 

Glenn was a fuckin’ mess. Morgan would have left him years ago if she wanted to. But she had stayed, for reasons somewhat unbeknownst to Glenn. 

“I’m not brushing you off.”

“Then _talk to me_. You never talk to me.”

Glenn’s jaw tightened. God, how he wished he could talk to her. How he wished he had the words to explain how he felt the way she always seemed to have the words to explain how she felt. How he wished he could tell her that he was terrified every day that she would forget to come home one night and then it would all be over, she’d leave him, he’d lose the only person who had ever decided he was worth prioritizing. 

“You always seem to know how I feel, I never _have_ to talk to you.”

Morgan’s nostrils flared. 

“Fuck, Glenn. You can’t expect me to know how you feel all the goddamn time. I can’t do all the work! I need you to put in the work, too!”

Shit. Fuck. That wasn’t what Glenn meant. He’d fucked up his words again. 

“That’s not—”

“No, I’m not done. You never communicate when things bother you. I always find out you were angry about something _weeks_ after it happens, and by then you’re fine, you say it’s all good, but _I_ feel guilty for not apologizing when it happened! Or you’ll make fun of me for doing something for months, and it’s only when I notice that you’ve been high for five days straight without a fucking break that I figure out that thing I was doing was actually hurting you in a real way! I don’t _want_ to hurt you, Glenn, but I can’t read your fucking mind!”

“I’m not— I don’t want you to read my mind, babe,” Glenn scrambled to correct himself, “You just know how I feel all the time and I never want to make you feel bad and I just get over things quickly anyway, so there’s no need to dwell on mistakes!”

“We’d dwell less on mistakes if we could just talk through them right after they’re made, but you always want to shove your feelings down, squash them further and further until you can’t pretend things are all perfect anymore and I find out one night when you don’t come home that you’ve driven all the way to Santa Barbara just because you ‘needed to get out of town’!”

Glenn knew she was right, but he didn’t know how _not_ to shove his feelings down. He had always done it. He’d learned to bottle his feelings up when his parents first started fighting when he was a toddler. When he discovered weed in sixth grade, he’d used that to chill himself out. Once he got a car, he’d go on long drives to nowhere, sometimes ending up in a completely different city in the middle of the night.

“That’s just my way of dealing with things, man! You go on drives when you’re upset, too!”

Morgan shook her head. “Yeah, but I don’t _leave town_. I drive in circles and then come home an hour later when I’ve cooled down!”

“Well if _I_ need to get out of town sometimes, is that such a problem? You know I’m coming back! I always come back.”

“Coming back doesn’t make up for leaving in the first place.”

Glenn went silent. He couldn’t look at Morgan anymore. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, his throat was swelling up. He turned back around and opened the window above the sink. 

He wasn’t the one who left. He didn’t leave Morgan, he would _never_ leave Morgan. The very thought made him sick. 

Morgan huffed behind him, clearly still worked up. “You’ve been pulling this pouty shit for the past two weeks, so what is it this time? Is it just the flirting thing at the bar? Or did I pick out the wrong brand of drums for Nick again? Or, oh, did I load the dishwasher wrong? Did I shrink one of your shirts in the dryer? What did I fucking _do_ , Glenn?!”

“ _You make me feel so fucking inferior sometimes!_ ”

Glenn breathed heavily. He had spun around to glare at Morgan, tears in his eyes. He didn’t know why their fights always made him cry. He didn’t know why every fight they had made him feel stupid, incompetent, worthless. Morgan didn’t make him feel that way. He loved her. But when they fought, when he felt hurt, all of his walls went up again and he said things he knew he would regret.

This was why Glenn always ran away. So he wouldn’t get hurt. And so he wouldn’t hurt this person he loved so much it made his heart ache. 

Morgan started laughing. She threw her head back, mouth wide open, and laughed with her whole body. When she looked back at Glenn, there were tears on her cheeks. 

“ _Now_ you’re telling me how you feel.”

“Babe—”

“How long have I made you feel inferior?”

“Freeman—”

“No, shut the _fuck_ up, Glenn. You are not inferior to me! I chose to be with you, I chose to marry you, I chose to have a son with you, a beautiful, wonderful, amazing son! I chose to support your career because I think you’re an incredible musician, you’re the most talented artist I’ve ever met, and I’ll open a hundred more salons if that’s what I have to do to support our family while the Glenn Close Trio becomes world-famous! I… Fuck, Glenn, don’t you get it? I love you _so fucking much_. I always will. I just need you to stop shutting me out!”

Tears spilled over Glenn’s face. He was silent. 

“Fuck, Close. You still can’t believe me, can you?” 

Silence. 

A sad, watery smile took shape on Morgan’s face. 

“I don’t know what else to say,” Morgan said, her voice thick with emotion, “There’s nothing else I _can_ say. You’ll just have to try believing I’m here, with you, and I’ll be here until the day I die.”

Glenn opened his mouth. And closed it again, too ashamed to say anything. Too worried it wouldn’t be the right thing. Still too worried it would give Morgan a reason to leave. 

She sighed and wiped the tears from her chin. “Put Nick to bed, will you? I’m going for a drive.”

“Morgan—” Glenn choked out, wanting to apologize, wanting to tell her how much he loved her, too, wanting to tell her that he would do anything for her, too, wanting to tell her that he would give up everything, _everything_ , if that would make up for all his broken pieces, all the times he couldn’t just _talk_ to her. 

Morgan grabbed her keys from their tray and shrugged on her coat to combat the chilly fall night air of a November in 2012. She opened the door.

“I’ll be home soon. I promise.” 

Morgan turned away, stepped outside, and shut the door behind her. 

* * * * * * *

Glenn jerked awake, the faint sound of their old Toyota Corolla starting up and driving off humming threateningly in his brain. 

“Glenn!” Henry’s raised voice rang in his ears, “Are you alright?” 

Glenn blinked, the dim lights of the lower level of the Meth Bay Supermax slowly bringing everything back into focus. Henry was crouched next to him, holding his head above the ground, as Darryl, Ron, and… Jodie… stood over him, looking concerned. 

Jodie’s phone was still in his hand, but the screen was black. 

Two pairs of feet pattered closer and closer, and Glenn heard Paeden speak. 

“Holy shit—I mean… ship…? Fuck it, is that my baby boy Glenn?”

The second pair of feet came to a stop around where Paeden’s voice was coming from, and Glenn looked up in their direction. 

A thirteen-year-old boy with a polo shirt, an inhaler in his hand, and big, familiar brown eyes stood looking down at him, breathing hard. 

_I missed you,_ Glenn wanted to say.

_I’m so sorry._

_I love you._

_Do you remember me?_

Glenn slapped a grin on his face and forced out a laugh.

“Hey Nick, what’s up!”

**Author's Note:**

> tell me how sad you are so I can be sad with you :')


End file.
